Oblivion
by mnemosynesque
Summary: Blaise discoveres the merits of the Muggle philosopher Nietzsche. Believing that his life is nothing may just make his life more worthwile. A oneshot for now, but it may become longer.


**OBLIVION**

**Mnemosynesque**

"_To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,  
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,  
To the last syllable of recorded time;  
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools  
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!  
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,  
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,  
And then is heard no more: it is a tale  
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,  
Signifying nothing."_

--From _Macbeth_ (V, v, 19)

* * *

"_To admit a belief merely because it is a custom - but that means to be dishonest, cowardly, lazy! - And so could dishonesty, cowardice and laziness be the preconditions for morality?" _

--Nietzsche's _Daybreak_,s. 101, R.J. Hollingdale transl.

* * *

Blaise Zabini had always had a great appreciation for Nihilism, the one great thing that Muggles had come up with in their worthless generations of wasted life. Certainly in the back of him mind Blaise hoped that the famed and revered Friedrich Nietzsche was a wizard, but even his insane blood purity didn't deny that the man was brilliant either way.

Blaise held the man in great esteem, even daring to read his book in the secrecy of his room over the summer, all the while fearing his mother or his newest rich step-father (which one was this? The ninth? Tenth?) would burst in and catch him reading the blasphemous material. As disgusted with himself as he was, Blaise couldn't help but devour the books that told him that his life and existence was without purpose or meaning, a fact that in a strange and twisted way made him feel better.

However this hungering for his life to mean nothing and to have no bearing on anything had certainly thrown him into a position that he did not truly want to consider: if whatever he did or thought meant nothing, than his ideas of blood purity would have… no meaning? He could barely come to terms with the fact that the prejudices that had been so firmly ingrained in his mind from the moment he could think clearly could be… wrong.

Yet in a way, in a very far away part of his mind that he tried to ignore very diligently, coming to terms with his new belief system would change something very important within him, a secret that he had tried to hide, and indeed thought he had until Pansy had made an offhand remark on the train at the beginning of the year…

_"...and Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl," he finished, having been naming all of the students present at the "Slug Club," a stupid meeting set up by Slughorn, the new Potions professor with an over inflated ego. _

_  
Malfoy sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside. _

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Malfoy out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

_  
"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked pleased. Malfoy sank back across her lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of his hair. _

However that wasn't quite the truth now, was it? He thought about the girl: tall, slim: a classic beauty that was often the envy of supposedly more worthy Pureblood girls. What he could lie to Pansy and everyone else about, he could admit to himself: that he thought the littlest Weasley was entirely too shaggable for her own good.

It was certainly too bad that he could never act on his strange urges. But after spending his summer in peril while reading Nietzsche it certainly seemed to him a different world. His material world had certainly held no allure for him, and now the philosophy of Nietzsche had proven to him that it _was_ in fact all worthless. Yes… If he truly believed this, then it proves that all views on ethics and morality are false, and therefore his inappropriate… infatuation with the youngest Weasley was indeed… acceptable.

Standing from the high backed chair he made his way out of the Slytherin Common rooms and made his way out to the cold halls of Hogwarts, towards his ultimate downfall.

-----

A/N: Very short, not so sweet. Just a random ficlet after reading a bit of Nietzsche and finding him as a strange muse for a dark Blaise Zabini.

Let me know what you think!


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